


Sickbed

by YumeArashi



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Fluff, Gen, Self-Indulgent, Sickfic, complete schmoop
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-30
Updated: 2019-11-30
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:29:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21619156
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/YumeArashi/pseuds/YumeArashi
Summary: Adam has a sick day
Comments: 10
Kudos: 32





	Sickbed

Adam curled up tighter under his threadbare blanket and hoped desperately that the pounding on his door would stop. A vain hope, he knew - Gansey or Blue might have left if they thought he was asleep, but only Ronan knocked like he was trying to beat down the door.

Sure enough, when Adam didn't answer, the door simply opened. Adam sometimes really hated that Ronan knew how to pick locks. Ronan scowled down at him. Adam pulled the blanket over his head, hoping his shivering wasn't visible.

"What the hell're you still doing in bed, Parrish?"

"Fuck off, Lynch," Adam croaked.

"Are you fucking sick?"

"I said, fuck off."

"Fuck off yourself. C'mon, get up, we got shit to do."

Adam emerged enough to glare at him.

"Get up and come downstairs, or I pick your scrawny ass up and carry you downstairs bodily. Those're your options. And I'm damn well not catching whatever you've got because I had to haul you around like a sack of flour."

"I fucking hate you," Adam muttered, emerging from his pitiful cocoon. He ached all over, exhausted even beyond his usual levels with the sleepless feverish night - not helped by the inadequate blanket and thin lumpy mattress.

Ronan turned his back while Adam got dressed, saying nothing as he led the way to his car. But he did turn the music down to a dull roar and turned up the heat. Adam appreciated that grudgingly, still resentful at being dragged out at all. He closed his eyes, just for a minute, just to rest.

He dozed off and on most of the way to the Barns, blinking around in a daze when they stopped. "Why're we here? Weren't we going to Cabeswater? Or Monmouth?" Adam tried to remember their destination, but the morning was already a blur.

"Just gotta stop in and take care of something right quick. C'mon." Adam trudged inside after him, watching Ronan bring the fireplace to life with a wave of his hand, the dormant dreamed flames leaping to obey. It never failed to amaze Adam that Ronan called him 'magician' when he held such power of his own.

"Here. Sit." Ronan pointed at the overstuffed couch in front of the fireplace. "I'll be right back."

Adam sunk into the couch, as obedient as the fire, too tired and sick for anything else.

When Ronan came back five minutes later, Adam was asleep.

* * *

Adam woke to warmth.

He lay quietly, just to soak in the feeling. Last night the fever chill had sunk in so deep, all the way to his aching bones, and he'd felt like he'd never be warm again. But now the fire roared merrily in front of him, and he was piled with a mountain of blankets. He'd fallen asleep sitting up but now he was stretched out, shoes off and a pillow tucked under his head. It said a lot about how sick Adam was that Ronan had been able to do that without waking him. (Or about how much Adam trusted Ronan and felt safe with him, but that was a thought he wasn't quite ready to explore yet).

He stretched a little, peering out of his cozy nest. Ronan was nowhere to be seen, but Chainsaw perched on the mantle, toasting her tail feathers. She squawked a greeting and Adam smiled and croaked one in return. On the coffee table in front of the couch sat a mug and a bowl, both still steaming. There was a brown medicine bottle too, labeled only 'drink this, asshole', with a dosing cup beside it. Adam picked up the bottle, shook it, opened the cap and examined its contents. The thick brown liquid reminded him of medicine he'd sometimes gotten as a child for his colds. It should have tasted terrible, but it tasted of honey and lemon instead, and it soothed his sore throat as it went down.

Feeling better, he sat up properly, pulling the blankets around him. The mug was lemon tea, thick with more honey, and Adam took a moment to be grateful that he was here getting ordinary tea and not at Fox Way with some mug of medicinal horror that he'd have to drink out of politeness.

The bowl was chicken soup - not canned but homemade, thick with noodles and vegetables and meat in rich, savory broth. As far as Adam knew, Ronan had never shown any evidence of being able to cook - was this a hidden talent, or had he dreamed this as he'd dreamed the medicine?

He was just finishing when Ronan returned from whatever he'd been off doing. "Feeling better?" he asked, blue eyes sharp as he cleared away the empty bowl and mug.

"Lots. Thanks," Adam said, surprising himself with a yawn. The medicine had worked wonders - his fever was already fading, his airways were clearing up - why was he still so tired? "I'm fine, really, and I've wasted too much time already. What needs doing today?" he insisted, moving to get up.

"Go back to sleep, idiot. You just got your ass kicked by germs. Plus I bet you didn't sleep at all last night, did you? You're such a fucking masochist." Ronan's tone was exasperated but his hands eased Adam back down onto the couch and pulled the blankets back over him.

Adam gave him a sleepy smirk. "Never pegged you for the mother hen type, Lynch."

"Fuck you, Parrish. I'm doing this because you're no good to anyone right now, you germ-ridden sack of shit. And if you breathe one word of this to anyone, I'll kick your ass."

"Sure, sure," Adam nestled down with another yawn. The couch really was so comfortable, and the blankets so soft and warm. As sleep crept up on him once more, he mumbled, "You sticking around this time?"

"Don't be a moron," Ronan told him. His hand ruffled Adam's hair and then stayed there, a warm comforting weight.

* * *

When Ronan dropped Adam back off at Saint Agnes that night, Adam had a bottle of medicine in his pocket, and in his arms a blanket as soft and warm as a cloud.


End file.
